Drabbles - Klaroline
by immortalpen
Summary: Drabbles resulting from brainstorming new long fic ideas
1. Chapter 1

Some drabbles as I play with ideas for a new long fic! FB appreciated xx

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Caroline waited at the counter, watched absently as the barista swirled cream on the top of her iced mocha, before handing it to her, giving her a cheeky wink. She sighed in response, and glanced in the mirror at her reflection above the counter. So, turns out office chic can be sexy, she though grimly as she picked up a straw and turned to go, suddenly more aware of how tight and short her fitted grey dress was, paired with nude heels and a cranberry blazer. She pulled her shades out the handle of her leather shoulder bag and pushed the heavy glass door before her.

The downtown coffee house sat on a sunny corner of the financial district, which practically smelt of money, hunger greed and desperation, she thought, fighting down her natural distaste for it. People on a mission, driven by some great force… and she was about to join them.

As she left the crowed place, she caught the eye of a couple sitting in the window, one with their finger tapping their watch the other lost in the view of the street. She too glanced down at her watch, and felt a moment of apprehension. This was it, all the preparation, the waiting, the training, now was the moment it all came into play. She took a deep breath, and stepped out into the dazzling sunshine.

The weather was warm already, and the day was young as she turned about getting her bearings. She looked up at a towering glass skyscraper above her, and felt her bravado turn to dust. Mikaleson Enterprises, and the interview many would kill for, the opportunity of a lifetime. She steadied herself and started to walk toward the building, slightly detouring toward the curb, prolonging the inevitable really, as she rehearsed her opening lines.

They say the big moments, the monumental ones, the life changing ones, the ones that will influence the direction of your life forever, can just pass in a blink of an eye, gone before you realised it, to the point where you never can quite recall them clearly. And yet, for Caroline Forbes, this moment, the one that would be the turning point of her life, and come to define her, all those years later, seemed to happen slowly, her very blood and heartbeat slowing down, the man talking on his phone across the square and shooing a pigeon with his foot. The girl in the windbreaker, jogging right past her, a lonely flash of neon in the crowd of suits, a car pulling up to the curb, it's engine idling, the ring tone of a person passing close by, ring, ring, ring.

For those excruciating seconds, it was all heightened, the smells, the sounds, she felt as though she could see 360 degrees, and then, just like that, time slammed back into place, the world around moved in hyper motion, like a video clip catching up again, and her body was slamming into someone else's.

Before she could register what was happening, she felt the heavy coldness of ice creeping down her legs, as she stumbled upright, her feet unsure in the heels, her bag throwing her off balance, she tottered for an unthinkable moment, and then, went down, hard on her right knee.

"Fuck" she swore viciously as she felt the full impact of the pain spread up her leg, letting the remnants of her crushed plastic cup roll onto the floor, she brought her hands to her knee and shifted sideways, trying to take the pressure off her knee, without flashing the few onlookers her spectacular fall had attracted.

"Can't you watch where you're going" an accent voice came from before her, and she felt her cheeks warm realising that whoever had knocked her over had stayed to hover unfeelingly over her and witness her humiliation.

"Sir, I will help, please, just go inside."

She heard presumably the driver of the man insisting and she felt anger spike through her. A stupid rich idiot, probably on his phone, walking around bloated with self-confidence and arrogance to the point where they don't even notice mere mortals trying to go about their day, and get to the interview of their lives. The interview. She felt something horribly like tears beat behind her eyelids as she surveyed the damage to her tights, ripped and bloody, and her skirt, dripping with iced coffee. She glared at the expensive dress shoes planted before her, figuring they must cost more than her monthly rent, and glared up through her askew sunglasses.

"Excuse me… I didn't quite hear that apology… I guess I just need it translated from pompous asshole" she said and turned her attention back to her current predicament, lowering her palms to the floor, and starting the laborious process of trying to lever herself up, suddenly super uncomfortable at the thought of this guy watching. As her palm made contact with the pavement, she gasped as it stung, and she turned it over to see it was grazed and bleeding down one side with a large cut, presumably made by her damned coffee cup.

"Allow me" the voice said, and she was about to sneer another response when she felt herself being lifted up, hands under her arms from behind, as Mr fancy dress shoes stood motionless. She let out a laugh at that.

"Is something funny?" The voice asked casually as she tried putting weight on her sore knee and winced.

"Yeah, something's funny, you rich guys really do have someone to help you everything don't you? Even to offer help or be gentlemanly… what's next? Are you going to get your lacky to apologise to me too?" she bit out, as she finally turned to face her reluctant helper and catalyst to her demise.

"I wasn't aware the victim had to apologise" that same dry voice continued, it's British accent stronger now, somehow that she saw the face it went with. Dirty blonde curls, blue eyes, and a full mouth, his smirk was insult to injury. Caroline reprimanded herself for registering the strong cut of his jaw, or even noticing how attractive the damn asshole was, though she felt her face flushing as she surveyed him.

"What victim? You bumped into me… wasted my breakfast, ruined my dress…"

"I am hardly unscathed" he said, his smirk deepening as she looked him over, immaculate three piece suit without a mark, grey and pristine, blue shirt with cufflinks, even his pocket square was untouched.

"You look perfectly fine to me" she said, her eyes narrowing as his eyebrow raised.

"From vitriol to compliments –"

"It wasn't a compliment!" She exclaimed, flustered as he pulled his silk handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

"Sir… really, please go inside, I will make sure this, er – young lady recovers" the driver was still hovering and Caroline felt her patience snap at his judgemental tone.

"Look, just leave me alone please, if you're not apologising, and you don't have a time machine, then… just go away." She said coldly, ignoring the hand offering the vividly coloured square of silk in the air.

"You're bleeding"

"Yeah, well… that's my problem, isn't it" she said as she bent and retrieved her bag from the floor, sighing as the man bent at the same time, faster than she could even register and picked up a piece of paper, about to blow away. He looked at it a moment.

"You have an interview at Mikaelson Entreprises" he sounded surprised, damn him, as though she was too ditzy to have an interview at a Fortune 500 company.

"That's really none of your business. Thanks for ruining my day" she said curtly as stuffed the interview details into her bag and slipped it onto her shoulder.

She started to limp away, without another word, heading for the sanctuary of a fountain with a wide lip, somewhere to sit and lick her wounds, leaving the man standing in the street. What a start to the day, mowed down by a hot stranger, with an even hotter accent, and completely ruining every chance she had of getting her job, before she'd even set foot in the door. She sank down on the cold stone gratefully, wincing at the cold on her bare legs. Who would choose to wear these clothes everyday? She asked herself, before reminding herself that she would have to if she got the job, then a mental face palm that of course she wouldn't, once she showed up looking like a car accident victim. Maybe that's what she should say, she thought, pulling the clinging material of her tights off the gash in her knee, gritting her teeth as the blood stuck. Glancing up, she noticed that the sexy suit jerk and his little helper were both gone, and she felt a little relieved, though, in retrospect a little embarrassed. Then she told herself to put it firmly out her mind, and concentrate on the present.

Right now, well, in 10 minutes, she had the interview she had waited 3 long months for, and she wasn't about to let a little mishap get in the way. She stood up, pasting a smile one to cover the pain her knee was giving her, already swelling and puffy through the rip in her tights. She walked toward the glass building, noting the other people entering in their impeccable suits, the women sleek and polished, and told herself not to care. There was more to business than appearances, and she had plenty substance to back her up. She limped in. The revolving door opened into a large, airy space, it was bright, and soft piano played somewhere overhead. There was a water feature in the middle of the large space, a wall of glass lifts, and extremely large art installations dotted around the place. She spotted what looked like the reception, with a security guard standing close by and made her way as gracefully as possible over to it.

"Good morning, I am Caroline Forbes, here for an interview with Miss Pierce" she said, giving the receptionist a smile, and ignoring her slightly critical look. The woman looked down at some sort of tablet, before looking up and motioning to the security guard behind her.

"Ah, yes. Miss Forbes. I'm afraid Miss Pierce is not available this morning, something has come up at short notice. You will meet Mr Mikaelson instead." The woman said calmly, and Caroline tried not to let her panic show on her face.

"Mr Mikaelson, as in… the Mr Mikaelson?" she asked. The woman frowned at her, before motioning the guard forward.

"You will meet Niklaus Mikealson, our deputy manager, Vince will escort you" she said, before dismissing her with a look.

"Is there a bathroom I could visit on the way?" she asked desperately, as the guard began to show her the way to the wall of lifts.

"I'm afraid he is waiting for you…" the receptionist said in a tone that brooked no disagreement and Caroline nodded, her need to be agreeable fighting with her desire to take of her stained and ripped tights, and clean her front a little. She did her best not to limp as she followed the guard who reminded her of Lurch into the lift, and watched as he passed a card over the eye before pressing a hidden button. He saw her raise an eyebrow at this, yet offered no explanation as the lift zoomed up. Caroline felt her nerves spring into life as she took in the lush surroundings that greeted her when she stepped out the lift. A long hall, beautifully decorated in light shades, and a wall of glass showed her stunning city views, as she followed along after her guide. As the reached a large door at the end, the guard turned to her and asked to see inside her bag. She silently handed it over, and watched him go through it.

"What, no metal detector?" she joked as he handed it back.

"No need, the lift does a full body scan" he deadpanned back, before opening the door and gesturing her forward. Not sure if he had been joking or not she started forward, her feet entering the plush carpet of the room, and she heard the door click shut behind her.

Her heart was beating wildly as she looked around, quickly realised she was alone, and felt her blood pressure lower a notch.

The wall of glass continued, though in here, the other walls were dominated by paintings. Beautiful paintings, of people mostly, though their expressions seemed sad to her, lonely, as they stared out mournfully at the city. She turned her attention back to the room the hand carved furniture, wooden ,and polished to a high shine, the leather sofa and luxurious looking pillows and throws on it, and the technology. State of the art computers and tv screens lined the far end, clustered around a desk, while the other end was shelved from the high ceiling to floor with books. The room was completely silent apart from the quiet tick of a grandfather clock.

Her tights! The thought came to her suddenly, and she realised that this might be the only chance she had, glancing around, she still didn't see any sign of someone joining her, and so, seizing the opportunity, dropped her bag and slid off her shoes. She tried to inch down the tights without pulling up her skirt, but it wasn't going to work. Determined to get them off, she bit her lip, primed her fingers to be speedy, and quickly pulled the dress of her skirt up to her waist. With it bunched up there, it was easy to grip her tights, and start to pull the off. She pulled them down to just above her knees, and returned to her skirt, sliding it back and forth until it wiggled back down over her bottom.

A throat cleared. She felt the blood rush to her face, as her hair hung over it in a curtain, bent as she was, hands back on her tights. She felt then she had two choices. Acknowledge whoever was there immediately and have to explain while standing there with her tights half off, or pretend she hadn't heard, and finish, before facing the music with some dignity. She ripped the rest of her tights off, stuffed them in her bag and to ignore the stinging that was coming from the cut on her knee. She straightened up slowly, aware of being watched, pushed her hair back from her forehead, and turned, her smile dying on her lips as she registered who was standing before her.

He looked exactly as cool and as unruffled as he had outside, and more annoyingly, had the same satisfied smirk in place as he looked her up and down.

"You!" she cried, and clapped her hand over her mouth as she did, forcing her words back into her mouth as she did. Mr Mikaelson, deputy manager to Mikaelson Enterprises, and obviously a Mikaelson by birth. Well, he certainly had the arrogance for it, she thought numbly as the urge to cry suddenly come over her. Crashing disappointment swooped down. Her interview, the job… gone… because she had been rude to a stranger and let her stress and frustration out. She really had no one to blame but herself.

"Meeting again so soon… aren't I the lucky one" he said with a chuckle, coming around his huge desk, his smile far too amused for her liking. She swallowed down her retort, and schooled her expression into a professionally bland smile.

"I'm sorry… I didn't realise – who you were" she said

"Would you have acted differently?" he asked curiously, head titled a little to the side.

"Probably not" she admitted ruefully "I just wouldn't have bothered to come all the way up here for the interview. Thanks for the opportunity, such as it was" she said, picking her bag up again, and turning to leave. She walked across the soft carpet, humiliation beating at her, his gaze hot on the side of her face.

"Miss Forbes, aren't you forgetting something?" he called as she made it to the door, her hand grasping the cold metal handle.

"My dignity?" she joked lamely as she looked back, bracing herself for a hurtful comment.

"Your shoes" he said, a proper smile appearing at her answer. She felt herself rolling her eyes at her own scatiness, and started back. As she approached him, she could still feel those blue eyes one her, inquisitive, not miss anything. Probably wondering what the crazy girl would do next, she thought sourly. She slipped her feet back into the tortuous heels and finally brought herself to meet his eyes. She smiled shortly.

"Well. I believe this interview has already lasted about 10 minutes too long for both of us… so I will just get out of your hair –"

"Do you always presume to know that other people are thinking?" he asked abruptly, leaving her staring at him, her flippant words dissipating into air. He walked slowly toward her, his hand reaching into his pocket again, and emerging with the same slip of silk she had rudely pushed away earlier.

"Would you like to freshen up? I have a bathroom, just off the office" he said, indicating a hidden door to the right of the desk, probably where he popped out from before. She nodded numbly, her fingers curling into the pocket square he had pressed into her hand. She turned from his intent gaze and turned, trying hard not to limp, made it through to the bath room.

Inside was cool, sandstone and chrome luxury, as she closed the door and turned the key in the lock. She lent back against the frame and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Opening them, she almost screamed when she saw herself in the mirror. Blonde hair in disarray, though it was the least of her problems. She had managed to smudge her eyeliner in one eye, no doubt a stray droplet of iced mocha, leaving a black cobweb spanning over her right cheek. Her skirt was a patchwork of wet splodges, some brown in colour, and then of course, her legs. She turned the hot water on, and ran her grazed palms under it, hissing as it stung the scrapped skin there, and washed tiny dots of gravel out. She then wet a tissue, and started to wipe her knee. Catching the watery lines of blood that had streaked down her leg, she left the area to air dry and turned her attention to her face. Pulling a makeup wipe from her bag, she wiped off the black eye, and then, realising that she hadn't brought the eyeliner pen with her, had to match her other eye by removing the makeup. She looked bare and like a child as she stared in the mirror after. Not a great look, she grimaced as she pulled out a little travel brush and gave her hair a few quick pulls, before letting it settle back into it's natural loose waves.

Aware of the time she was taking, and worried about making it more awkward by lingering she slipped off her jacket, which was a looking a little worse for wear around the elbows, thankns again to the fall, and threaded it through the handles of her bag. Her fitted grey dress had capped sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, was tight at the waist and flowed into a pencil skirt. It was her best dress, her most professional, but now, without her make-up on, bare feet and her hair falling about her shoulders, she felt like a little girl playing in her mothers clothes.

Resigned, she turned toward the door, schooled her face into an impassively polite expression, and opened it. She wouldn't be rattled by this guy again. She had made a fool of herself, there was nothing she could do to change it, might as well just get out of there asap.

She cautiously stepped out, and looked around, eyes instantly locking with the man himself as he stood, leaning on the edge of his desk, arms and ankles crossed, his eyes instantly running over her, starting from her bare feet, right up her body, over her face and arms, before meeting her eyes.

Do not blush again, she told herself sternly, just because he is the hottest guy you've met in a while, with the most mischievous grin she'd ever seen, that was no reason not to treat him just like any wide boy who eyed her up on the street. She fixed him with a narrow look, before turning and heading toward her shoes, the implements of her escape.

As she reached them, she found that a plastic cup of Starbucks coffee had been placed on the table. She turned and looked at him in surprise, her mouth curving in a repressed smile.

"Belated I know, as is the apology… but it is better late than never… I apologise for not looking where I was going this morning" he said, coming toward her.

"My directions guy called in sick" he said, and she couldn't help it, she laughed. After the tension of preparing for the interview, and then the shock of the fall, it felt good. She glanced up at him, and saw his own full mouth was stretched in a smile. He looked at her appraisingly again, and she felt a heating of her cheeks for a moment that had nothing to do with embarrassment. She shared his gaze a long moment, before clearing her throat and looking away, toward the view.

"I like your smile" he said, and his tone, he seemed almost surprised. There was nothing seductive about it, just as though he was making an observation.

"Well… I like your apology…" she said, and was rewarded by his laugh, the tension between them disappating.

"Especially as it comes with gifts… you didn't have to go to the trouble" she said, indicating the frozen drink, so cold she could see the ice on the side.

"Not to worry… it wasn't much trouble at all… not for me at least" he said, and she rolled her eyes, wondering which poor soul he had sent out to replace her drink.

"Anyway, I would never recommend interviewing on an empty stomach" he said, and she looked sharply back at him.

"Interview?"

"You came here for one, did you not?" he said, walking around his desk and picking up a piece of paper.

"Events manager?" he said askingly, looking up at her as she hovered beside the couch.

"Well… yes, I was… but… given this morning, and Miss Pierce not seeing me… I thought-"

"You don't have to see Miss Pierce"

"But she is the director of the department-" she started, and then bit off the words, as amusement entered his gaze once more.

"And I am the director of the company… I meet everyone that is hired here, my word is final, so unless you would like to go through a 5 stage interview process… I suggest we just have one stage, right here, right now" he said, sitting down calmly in an imposing leather chair, and gesturing to the chair opposite.

Caroline walked cautiously forward, and pulled the chair back, before sitting down, trying to calm her nerves, which had suddenly sprung up, as well as the hope which was flourishing in her belly.

"I just thought… you know, after this morning, there wouldn't be much point" she said quietly.

"I thought we had covered your lack of telepathic skills… had we not?" he said pointedly, and she nodded slowly, biting her lip.

"Well then, do you have your CV, I unfortunately do not have Katherine's copy," he was saying as she pulled one out her bag and handed it to him. He smiled in response.

"I'm glad to see you were prepared" he remarked, looking through her resume. She sat awkwardly, feeling as though she should say something.

"Well, my mom used to say always expect incompetence" she said, and was pinned by an intense blue look, for a long moment thinking she'd managed to offend him this time, until this mouth turned up in a smirk and his attention fell back on her CV. She took the chance to look at the technology equipment behind him. It was impressive, and highly technical, and she couldn't actually imagine what he might need it for.

"So, Caroline, tell me, what experience do you have in organising high profile events, with a lot of celebrities, and other influential figures attending, the kind where publicity and security must be handled carefully?" he asked, and she felt relief flow there her. She started to speak, and she found her voice growing more confident as she spoke about work. This was comfortable ground and she knew where she was here.

The interview went on, and was indistinguishable from others. He asked insightful, probing questions, and she answered expertly, her preparation coming into effect. They spoke for an hour, before he put down his pen that he had been making idle notes with and clasped his hands in front of him.

"Alas, Miss Forbes, my next appointment beckons. We must conclude." He said, and stood up. Caroline, taking his cue, shot to her feet, her nerve jumping again now that the professional conversation was over. She walked back to the sofa and gathered her things, slipping on her jacket, putting her sunglasses on top of her head. They walked together over to the door, which had opened as if by magic, a minion already standing ready to escort her out.

She turned as she reach the threshold.

"Thank you, for seeing me… for giving the chance to interview after… everything" she said, finding him standing much closer than she had anticipated. He smiled slowly in response.

"In that case, I ought to thank you too, for giving me the most entertaining morning in quite a while" She avoiding pointing out that her falling and hurting herself should hardly be described as amusing for him, but held herself back.

"Oh! Here, I didn't want to spoil it" she suddenly remembered, pulling the silk pocket square out her pocket and offering it back to him. His warm hand closed over hers, and she almost jumped at the contact. The moment lasted a tick longer than it should, and her eyes shot to his in askance. His fingers were slightly calloused, and that touch felt surprisingly intimate. He looked at her, something in his eyes she couldn't quite fathom, a touch of amusement perhaps a touch of attraction, but more, a long of longing, as though she were something in a shop that he wished to buy. And then, just as that realisation came to her, it was over, his hand was withdrawing and he was stepping back, the loss of contact leaving her strangely cold.

"Keep it, as a momento. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Forbes, be careful on your way out" he said, and just like that, she was dismissed. She turned to go, glancing back only once, catching sight of him, standing in front of his glass wall, staring at the city, his face so impassive it was hard to imagine the man who had smiled and laughed with her only a short time before.

On her way out, she took in the rich furnishings, and fancy security, she was intrigued by the lift procedures, though questions to her guide revealed nothing. She looked around the lobby, noted the many cameras, wondered if Klaus watched them in his tower, before leaving. She was n't sure what he had thought, if any of it had worked… if it had all been enough. Now, well, there was nothing she could do now, but wait.

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Caroline climbed the stairs of her apartments, and wearily unlocked the door. Even though it was only after lunch she was exhausted, as thought she had run a marathon, or, at the very least, a spinning class.

She stepped into her flat, and kicked off her uncomfortable shoes. Dropping her bag on the table, she started the process of relocking her door, turning the various different pieces of hardware, sliding the bolts and chains. She took safety very seriously, and it had stood her well so far.

She wandered into the living room, opening some windows as she went, and slipping off her jacket. It was hot as hell out, and these clothes were not exactly breathable. She wiggled out her dress without fully unzipping it, the woes of living alone, and grabbed a bottle of coconut water from the fridge. She felt dehydrated. Scooping up her hair, she clipped it on top of her head, and saw the light of the answering machine flashing by the tv.

"Good afternoon, Miss Forbes, this is Katherine Pierce, I am very sorry I missed you today, and wanted to thank you for coming in." the message started and Caroline stood frozen, her hand tight on the cold bottle, gripping it hard. All this work, all this training, and now she would find out if any of it was worth it.

"I just wanted to call to let you know that I have had a call from Mr Mikaelson, and he was very impressed with your experience and CV, and I'm happy to let you know that we would like to offer you the position" the message continued, but Caroline didn't hear anything more. The relief was so intense, it almost made her head swim as she went through to her dressing room and pulled on yoga pants and a vest, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she went. Running with a knee injury wasn't the best, but there was no changing that now, it had been agreed months ago. She grabbed her ipod, and slipped her feet into her trainers. Before she stepped out her apartment, she sent a quick text message, and then left her phone inside.

10 minutes later she was stretching beside a bench in the park, easing her knee, very, very gently. After a while a man sat down, he opened a paper in front of his face, shielding it from view.

"Well?" he asked quietly and she jogged in place, and then made a show of stretching her neck.

"I'm in" she replied, her face giving nothing away as she watched people jogging past them, couples walking and kids playing on the swings. The young man nodded, a slight smile tugged his lips before he spoke again.

"Well, Detective Forbes, I don't know if this is how I would spend a sabbatical… but… I'm not going to try and stop you again. Just be careful… there's more on the line than your job if you get caught"

She said nothing in reply, this words sinking through her like stones.

"Be safe" he said softly, his eyes meeting hers for a moment as he stood, folded his paper, the picture nonchalance and started to wander away, newspaper tucked under his arm, pace casual, and within a moment, was gone, blended into the people strolling the paths.


	2. The Guest

_This is story is inspired by the movie The Guest and must be read while listening to -** Haunted when the minutes drag by the Love Rockets **and** Anthonio by Annie** to get the right vibe! My tumbr has of photo sets that are perfect for Klaroline and this fic. Enjoy!_

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The dry desert air ran along her arm and up into her hair, the sun warming her arm as she leaned on the open window, the desert streaked past on all sides. A vision of golden tundra and blue sky as far as the eye could see. In the rear-view mirror, she left dust in her wake as she travelled along the road, the only lonely dot in an empty sea of sand.

The radio played the cassette that had been in there for years, the cassette that had always been in there. The cassette that he had made.

"_The word that would best describe this feeling would be, 'Haunted'__  
I touch the clothes you left behind  
That still retain your shape and lines, still haunted"_

Signs of civilisation were beginning to appear. Distant houses dotting the horizon, mail boxes lining the road, shops gradually appearing, and suddenly, she was driving along main street. The bustling town around her was as familiar as always. The same hardware store, same bank, same diner with the same old men sat outside. And she was still here, among them all, except... she wasn't the same.

She drove through town, and headed to the diner she worked at on the outskirts. It was popular with truckers and other people passing through. It had that vibe, transient, temporary, and it suited her just now, she realised as she pulled up outside and opened her car door, grabbing her handbag off the seat next to her and lowering her boots to the red hard packed sand. She noticed a Greyhound pulling in as she walked toward the low, squat building. Another group passing through. Reaching the front step she reached into her bag, checking her watch for the time, pulled out a last cigarette before her shift started.

She lit up, inhaling deeply as she watched people file off the bus. Most seemed like they were on their way somewhere else. Teenage runways in hoodies, shadow smudged eyes and a desperate look. Mothers with screaming children, looked exhausted and harassed. She felt a prickling on her arms, that insidious feeling of being watched, and glanced to the other side f the bus, where the driver was handing down luggage.

He wasn't all that tall though taller than her, certainly. Solidly built, in fact she'd be willing to bet that the muscled forearms, which were all she could see, were just the beginning. He was wearing a grey t-shirt, with a light zip up jacket over it, jeans and aviators hanging from the v on his chest.

And he was watching her.

Unperturbed she held his gaze as she drew on the last of her cigarette. His dirty blond head glinted off the dazzling desert sun, cut in a way that was vaguely familiar, short back and sides, cropped close, a little grown out, but still neat. His eyes were a blazing blue in a face of stubble and tan flashing white teeth.

She wondered what kind of picture she made, to someone from the real world, the world outside the desert and this backward town.

Standing in front of the white picket diner, her electric blue dress shirt dress riding high up her thighs, her curved apron, neon yellow, sitting snugly around her narrow waist, tumbling blond curls pulled into a bouncing pony tail. Her black nail varnish a constant complaint from her boss, the only thing giving any indication that she wasn't this small town girl, this no one, with nothing and no one to look forward to... except that she was exactly that.

She narrowed her eyes as smoke drifted into them, and stubbed out her cigarette. Casting the stranger and his inquisitive gaze a last glance, she turned and went into the diner for her 8 hour shift.

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Elizabeth Forbes hadn't meant to let he daughter lose her way, she hadn't meant for her family to fall apart... she hadn't meant for a lot of things to happen.

She hadn't meant for her son to die in a wretched war so far from home.

As she stared at the young man sitting before her. His erect posture his perfectly placed arms, it was as if Matt was sitting right across from her again. She realised she hadn't spoken in a while, and brought her attention back to his words.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said, forcing herself to concentrate.

"I said that Matthew and I were close... we served in the same unit for almost 2 years" his voice was cultured, well mannered, and she found her head nodding along to the things he said.

"I was with him... when he passed..." the voice continued and she felt the wrap around her heart like a steal palm. She stared at him, tears starting to drip down her cheeks, even as she dashed them away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, really... I'm -"

"Please, don't apologise.. I should have called before coming here... I didn't mean to upset you." he said, pausing a long moment, before making to stand.

"I should go... perhaps I can leave you my email-"

"No! Please... I'm sorry, it's just a lot.. but I want to speak to you, about... him. Please" she said, her desperation written on her face. He inspected her a moment before sitting with a decisive nod.

"Ok Ma'am whatever you want" he said, a smile appearing on his rugged features. She smiled back, as a well of questions for him sprang up inside her. He reached into his back pocket and pulled a photograph.

"Here, this is us together... last year" he said, and she gripped it tightly, the sight of Matt, her dearest boy standing in a desert, which could have been home, if not for his army fatigues, and semi automatic weapon, held casually against his chest, and right beside him, his arm slung around her son's shoulders, was the man sitting before her.

"What was it like there?" she asked, and settled back, letting her mind drift to distant places, feeling all the while as though her very own little boy, grown into a man was sitting across from her.

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Caroline tugged at the elastic holding her hair and let the heavy mass fall onto her shoulders, which had never been tighter. Outside was now dark, another day gone, another day closer to death, she thought grimly, and what did she have to show for it? She sat in the driveway of the house she still shared with her mother, the only she had shared with her father and twin brother, not so long ago, before everything had changed.

She put her fingers to her temples and tried to massage some blood into her head, rid herself of the tension and tiredness that surrounded her like a fog. Slowly, moving with great effort she wrenched open the car door and stepped out onto the gravel.

The night felt alive around her, the insects chirping away, the night sky brilliant with stars. This far out, isolated as her house way, nature was undisturbed in it's symphony. She shut the door, the human noise in the wilderness and crunched her way toward her house.

Stepping inside, she slipped off the heavy boots she wore, her sartorial protest against the girlie waitress uniform, and stripped her long over the knee socks off, stuffing them into the boots. Lowering her bag from her shoulder, she walked along the hall, surprised to hear the tinkle of cutlery and glasses from the kitchen. It was so normal, such an everyday domestic normalcy that she felt the emptiness of the house even more keenly somehow. Wandering into the kitchen, she wondered what had finally inspired her mother to cook, and stilled in her stride as she saw the familiar broad shoulders and narrow waist from earlier. Her stranger.

"Caroline!" her mother exclaimed, turning from the stove, a glass of wine in hand, and a genuinely happy smile on her lips, something Caroline hadn't seen in longer than she could remember. She crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded the man who had slowly turned to face her, adopting a casual pose, leaning against the sink, his legs crossed at the ankle, the picture of ease, if not for the fact that something about him, some energy he gave gave her the impression this guy was not as relaxed as he looked.

"This is Nik... he is... was... Matt's friend." her mother was saying as the man, Nik, pushed himself off the stove and came over to meet her, holding a hand out, as she simply stared at him.

"You knew my brother?" she asked her arms firmly crossed over her chest as she watched his hand hover in the air before lowering unshaken to his side.

"Yes Ma'am, indeed I did" he asked, his southern accent dripping.

"Ma'am, seriously?" she asked, and ignored her mother's warning look. He grinned down at her, rocking back on his heels at her reprimand before conceding it.

"Habit." he clarified. She accepted it as an apology and nodded, stepping past him toward the hallway, glancing back as she reached the shadowy recesses.

"Are you staying for dinner?" she asked, and saw as he and her mother exchanged a look.

"Actually, I've told Nik he can stay for a while... until he gets settled again" her mother sounded nervous as she spoke, and Caroline knew why. Small town like theirs, no other men in the house, it was how gossip got started.

She ignored the intent blue gaze that blasted her from the side, though the urge to turn her head and meet it, get lost in it was almost overwhelming.

"Where is he going to sleep?" she asked curtly, and saw her mother stiffen with defensiveness.

"I thought he could sleep in Matt's room... it isn't as though anyone is using it" her mother whispered, her voice becoming more defeated before she trailed off. She stared in shock at her, for even suggesting it. The room had been untouched, and he knew her mother went in there at least once a day. The thought of this perfect stranger, with his square jaw and tan, his effortless, bursting vitality was abhorrent for a moment, until she noticed the tremor in her mothers hand, the wine swaying with it.

She wasn't telling her, she realised, she was asking permission. Asking her 21 year old daughter permission, so upended had their roles become in this house. Caroline was fully prepared to refuse, send this stranger away, after all, who knew who he was, he could be a liar... he could be anybody. And yet, if he wasn't she could see the way her mother had already opened up to something he had flat out refused to do before, make any changes to Matt's room.

She was aware of the stranger's eyes on her, Nik. His head slightly tilted to the side he watched her closely, and she had the impression that there wasn't much he missed.

Making an impulsive decision, she turned to meet that speculative gaze.

"Fine, just for a couple of days" She said, folding her arms across her chest again, ignoring the way his eyes dipped, dropped down over her at the movement, and the way it made her mouth dry up.

"Thank you, I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, Caroline. Matt always spoke so much about you" he said that charming grin turning up the corner his full lips.

"Yeah? Well, he never said anything about you" she said, flashing him a sarcastic smile, she turned on her heel and started along the hall to her room.

"Caroline, dinner?" Liz called.

"I ate at the diner" she said before she made it to her room and shut the door behind her, her heart beating strangely

Walking over to her dressing table, she stared at herself in the mirror, and saw Matt, as she always did. Twins, and she missed him, god she missed him.

She slowly unbuttoned her dress, her mind drifting to the handsome strange with the easy smile, sitting only meters away from her at the dinner table, making her mother laugh. There was something about him, maybe because he reminded her of her brother, and it was the last thing they needed. Or, it was something else, a feeling, an energy, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, or hardly even that, just a wolf... at the door, at the dinner table, in the room next to hers as the long minutes of night ticked past, thick and dark.


End file.
